


Jones II

by atouchofprincecharming



Category: Harrison Ford - Fandom, Indiana Jones Series
Genre: F/M, Night, Sexual Situations, Stars, Sweat, tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atouchofprincecharming/pseuds/atouchofprincecharming
Summary: She's not quite finished with him just yet...





	1. Chapter 1

Jones II

The life of a true crusader sent him to the ends of the Earth and back. It had been seven months since he had fought against her restraints. Seven months since he had come undone in front of a woman he had no interest in ever seeing again.

Destiny belonged to each their own, but sometimes paths were destined to cross. He could resist all he wanted, but what was intended to be would be.

It had been one of the hottest summers on record, that he could remember at least. Sweat dripped from his face as he dug frantically for a relic he should have found weeks before. His calculations had been wrong and ironically enough, scatter-brained Marcus had actually told him so. Finally the shiny metal started to show and he continued grabbing at the dirt to uncover it completely. In the distance, Sallah called for him. Something about needing to be back for dinner. He grunted, muttering to himself at how his long-time friend could be more wrapped up in food than treasures.

"In a minute, Sallah!" He shouted over his shoulder; his heart racing as he worked feverishly.

"Take your time, I'll just starve..."

He rolled his eyes at his foolish friend. He had packed enough nuts and berries to last them another seven months. 

"Quiet, Sallah! I'm almost...there..."

\----------

That night he walked the streets of Cairo like a peasant. His shoes muddy, his shirt half-way open, and some coins in his pocket. His fedora rested snugly on his head as a gentle breeze swept past him every so often.

Sallah had a full-house. A wife, an army of children, and a monkey or two. He had offered for him to join in on some family traditions, but he had needed some time for himself. Besides, he hadn't gotten over that one monkey that had been properly trained by Belloq and his goons. 

A local bar had been open. If he had been anyone else, the locals would have looked at him with disapproval, but they knew him well. He had been around those parts plenty since knowing Sallah and just as they accepted Sallah, they had accepted him. A shot of whiskey was his order no matter the season or the day. Some things about him simply did not change. Clean shirt, same shirt. Clean pants, same pants. Weathered hat -- always. He was who he was, no surprises hidden away. He had become a definition. He had become someone that could be pictured and written about for the rest of eternity.

When he downed the darkened liquid, he found the only rest room to relieve himself. The intended ending to his night, aside from finding some sleep.

\--------

The walk back to Sallah's had felt eerie. He shook it off, momentarily thinking that perhaps the hooch he downed had been a little too strong. That never seemed to be the case, but anything was possible. He found himself constantly looking over his shoulders and rubbing the back of his neck. He breathed deep, filling his lungs with cool air as a gentle breeze blew past him. A pebble rolled near his foot. It abruptly grabbed his interest and he stopped inhaling. Staring at it, he noticed something had been wrapped around it. Knitting his eyebrows, he thought about his next move. Clearing his throat, he looked over his shoulders one more time before he bent down to pick up the rock. Unwrapping it, he held it in the directly of a nearby torch that someone had left burning.

'Whatever I want, I get, Jones…'

His confusion grew until another breeze brought along another rock. Grabbing it, he ripped the paper from around it and held it out to read.

'What you don't give, I'll take, Jones...'

His mouth grew small as he felt his blood pressure rise. He whipped around, ready to grab his whip and crack it against the dusty road. "Come on out!" He called, not wanting to harm anyone unless he had to.

He heard a soft giggle. A woman. 

He still reached for his whip. Unraveling it, snapping it and cracking it against the ground. From the darkness, she watched his whole body work itself as he continued to crack his whip. From the tops of his broad shoulders, to the curve of his sturdy ass, straight down to his fancy foot-work. She sighed; groaning deep in her throat as softly as she could.

Her men stood behind her. Armed and suited for combat. She snapped her fingers, giving the order to surround him. The leader of her unit went straight for him; grabbing his pistol and removing it from him.

"What the hell..." He looked around as he counted the men.

The sound of sauntering footsteps soon followed. He turned in the direction of their sound and felt a chill when he made out the woman in front of him.

"Hello, Jones." She tried to resist, but she couldn't. Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "Miss me?"

He swallowed. He grunted. He broke into an unforgiving laugh. "You wish, sweetheart."

"Don't test me, Jones..." She snapped her fingers again and two men came forward to force his arms back. They weren't rough, but their arrangement had been too secure for him to break through even if he tried.

The handle of his whip fell from his hand. Her smile had been replaced with a smirk while she pushed her foot between his feet as an order to give her space -- but space isn't what she needed. Grabbing his whip that had fallen behind him, she gripped the handle, dragging it up between his legs at an incredibly slow pace. His body went ridged when she came a little too close to the inside of his thighs. She caught his eyes as she wrapped his whip loosely around his neck.

"Now you're gonna choke me?" He questioned, then shook his head. "What do you want? Why did you come here? What's it that I've got?"

"Word around town is that you're after something big."

"That news?" His lips formed a quirky expression.

"How big?"

He laughed. "Right..." He looked past her doing his best to find a way out of there -- and alive.

"HOW BIG?!" Her tone now angry.

He thought for a moment longer before his own lips curled into a knowing smile, "... Oh... Sweetheart, it's real big... but you already knew that."

She caught his suggestive tone; not liking how amused he suddenly was.

"Do not play with me, Jones."

"Right..." His head fell to his chest for a moment as a light laugh left him, "You're absolutely right..." He brought his head up to look her in the eyes. "I forgot how much you like doing that yourself."

She raised her hand, ready to slap him. The men that were holding him had grown distracted by their conversation, allowing him to get his arms free and knock both of them right in the nose. As they wailed in surprise and pain, holding their nose as blood began to gush from them, he grabbed her forearm and stopped her impending hit.

"I don't think so." He warned her.

"Nice try, Jones..." Every man around them raised their weapons. "You're going to come with me."

His brows lowered. Letting go of her arm, his face grew ugly. "Where do you get off?" He muttered, only wanting her to hear him.

"Wherever I damn well please."


	2. Chapter 2

He couldn't believe his situation. In the back of a military truck with his hands tied behind his back, the metal floor hard on his ass as every little pebble in the road sent a jolt to it.

She had offered him some materials to sit on top of, but he had refused. There was nothing about what she planned for him that he would agree to so why would he take her kindness?

He hated her. Seeing her watching him with a smirk on her lips made him jerk against his ties. There was nothing in the world he had wanted in that very moment than to break free.

In her mind every bump they went over was just enough to get her throbbing even more between her legs.

She came ready. If she were someone else she would have never admitted it. A woman of her age and during her time; it would be unbecoming and crass. 

She was a higher rank. In charge. No bullshit. And she took. Like a pirate she traveled, sailing around the world or flying and grabbing a hold of everything and anything she wanted. She didn't want to find the fortune and the glory like the man before her. She didn't want to preserve history… she didn't want to place it in a museum. She wanted to own it. 

Greed. All the greed.

The low grumble that escaped him made her lay her eyes on him and she knew she had wanted a taste. Long before his sound effects, little did he know or did he?

She longed to trail her tongue down his neck and into the middle of his chest. At times she grew close, but only in her imagination. The men she laid with on and off were the ones that received such lashings from her tongue. It was satisfactory, but they left her longing for a taste of adventure.

He oozed with it. It leaked from his pores. The definition of an experienced Traveller. Her eyes almost fell back in her head at the thought.

A recurring realization that left her with newfound desires every...single...time...

Her mind had begun to swim as the truck slowed. It was almost an indirect cue that her men would venture off somewhere close by for a nap. Her… them, on the other hand, would be left alone in the back of the musty truck.

He struggled. Every force he could pull from his body had sweat dripping down his face. The groan from him had grown louder each time.

She found herself engrossed in his essence… increasingly. Something about the sound of his agony translated into a throaty moan, and the sweat covering him made her feel sticky all over.

He gave up. The ties were cutting into his wrists and he wasn't as alert as he could be. It had been a long day working and digging, and then the stop off at the bar. He wasn't wasted, but he needed more energy.

She couldn't wait for him to catch his breath. Going over to him, she extended her hands. Using them to unbutton whatever buttons he had done. When her hands touched his chest by accident, he flinched. Her hands were cold to his sweaty skin.

“Stop it.”

And she did. Removing her hands, she kept them within her space. 

“That's never come up before, Jones.” Her eyebrows rose. “You've never told me to stop before.”

“I'm not so much of a shithead this time around.” He grunted, completely unaware of what his sounds were doing to her.

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Pardon?” His eyebrows knit.

“You stop it.”

“Very funny.” He shook his head. “I'm not in the business of tying women up and playing with their tits.” 

She cocked an eyebrow.

“...not unless they ask for it.”

“And do they?”

He thought for a moment, then casually shrugged. “Sometimes. Other times they just want me buried deep.”

He had wanted to offend her. Put her off him. Make her form opinions on him of being crass and petty. Being typical, or so he figured. Why else would she do the things she did unless a man had taken something dear to her, from her.

Little did he know every word dripping from his mouth was over stimulating her without any direct contact.

Fireworks she thought, as an image of their naked slippery bodies invaded her thoughts and the direct pressure on her opening from what she already knew was his firm cock.

“Having second thoughts about your cruelty towards mankind?”

“Always, but never towards men.”

“Is that so?” 

And so there it began. The hint of a smirk, a sassy twist to one of his brows. He had gained confirmation of his opinion. 

He hadn't a clue what would happen next, but he had obtained all the information he needed.

“Sometimes.”

The look in her eyes made his smirk disappear. A serious air formed between them.

“Untie me?”

“I won't.” She was firm. “I keep you tied up because what I want from you is what you won't give.”

“But what you need?” The words left his mouth as quick as the thought had formed. “I deliver. Always…” She looked away from him, backing away from him. “...don't I?”

She forced herself to keep silent. Still, he cornered her with his words. They were like rapid fire. He was spitting them at her like the force of the would make her come undo.

“How many times have I made you come?” He ignored the strain in his shoulders. 

“I'd watch what you say to me…” She warned.

“Simple question…” He shrugged, not giving a damn. “Nothing threatening.”

Her feelings that shifted. Now that he was able to get under her skin, near to the truth of it all… and that question… she wanted him to keep quiet.

Gagging him had certainly never come up before, but it was a new day and he had started to become just a little too smart with his mouth.

She would be decent and she would tie it snugly instead of tightly, she reminded herself as she popped the blade of her knife out and started to cut along the sleeve of his shirt.

His heart was thumping in his chest. He hadn't expected her quick movements, nor a weapon being glided down his arm, skillfully, but still…

“Jesus!” He hissed as his brows furrowed and his lip trembled.

Placing the knife back in her pocket, she grabbed the piece of her shirt and began the process. And he fought. He bit against the material, trying to get at her.

“What's the matter, Jones?” She succeeded in having the upperhand. “Hadn't I warned you?”

He growled, struggling against the sour taste. He tried to say something… anything… but he couldn't. It had all fell from his mouth, a mashup of grunts and groans.

“Rest. We aren't there yet.”

He threw a fit then. Stomping his feet, hissing and growling, soaking the gag with his spit. His eyes were wild, glaring and full of rage. She had knocked him down further this time around. He could no longer speak.

She didn't feel good about what she did, but allowing him to speak would have had him flat on his back and her on top of him. His cock nestled deep between her legs.

There was no time for that. The first time she was aware of her surroundings. What they did inside the camp was practical because of her well trained ears.

The truck wasn't steady. Pebbles rolled outside. Men could be heard in the distance. At any moment they could open the back of the truck and catch them.

She had wanted to tease him. Play with him until he was hard against the front of his slacks, but he let his sassy mouth get in the way.

“Easy…” She told him. “I had much better plans for you, Jones…” She looked down at the front of his pants. “It would have been a better way… for the both of us…” She couldn't shake her thrill from having control. It breathed life into her because nothing else did. “I guess I'm the only one that can benefit from it now.”

He didn't care if she stood naked in front of him. Rolling her nipples into hardened buds or thrust her breasts into his face. She could sit back, opening her legs and rubbing until she was coming. He had seen it all before anyway.

What he hadn't expected was the calling of his name as she sat before him. Her knees bent and her feet together. With two fingers stroking as the third kept her undies held to the side.

Something changed in that very moment. He could feel the fragility in her tone and it sent a warmth to his chest before it leaked into the bit of his stomach and he felt a stir in his balls.

Not again, he thought. So much for keeping up appearances.

No dirty talk. He couldn't direct her or ask her how it felt. He sat gagged into silence as he watched her tremble and listened to his name dripping from her lips.

She could make things worse now that he was helpless. “Been thinking about your question, Jones…” She eased up on her rubbing so she could speak clearly. “Too many I suppose...and you?” She lightly laughed. “How often do you find yourself choking your prick at the mere thought of me?”

He felt a stir again, causing him to open his legs a little. Growing balls needed space, and so did a thick and long shaft.

What could he do?

And she?

The men called to her as the truck slowed. She cursed and fixed herself in a hurry before they knocked on the back door.

What was in his last name anyway? Nothing… not until the first moment he met her.

He didn’t belong to anyone, but his last name belonged to her.

He sighed heavily around his gag and watched as the men spoke to her in a language he should have known, but he hadn’t the strength to identify.


	3. Chapter 3

Nearly a full moon and a an incredible sequence of stars, perhaps a few shooting. He was confused though as he created his own stars, swarming around his head as his cock poked against his slacks.

He hated being tied up, but she knew no other way.   
He had angered her this time. His fear not as strong as once before. He wore his cockiness in hopes it would break her down, but he was a fool.

She was crying in complete abandonment. It was a put on, he had decided, that was a turn on. If she was a stranger he would beg her to quiet down, but she was familiar enough to him to make him want to hear.

She was in control and she knew it. He knew it, too. Even if he were untied he would stand there to watch her and listen to her calling for him.

She had put herself in the most wide open position she could manage. Wailing as her fingers drove deeper and deeper, wanting more than she had. Sheer frustration that prevented her from coming.

She needed him, but she didn't want him… or was it the other way around? Perhaps it was written in the stars. A galactic quest that no one could ever explain. Some burning need, or force.

He grunted then, unable to hold it in. His hips lifted, pushing his legs open, his ankles twisting as he sat tense on the wooden box. The chain that held his hands together and over his head rattled.

They created a sound almost like a melody in the night breeze. Gears were becoming more fluid now and like a direct oiling of pipes, he felt pre-come dribble from his cock. He waited then, in the moonlight and wondered if he could see a wet spot on his slacks.

She gazed at the stars as her hand rubbed and pinched her swollen clit, lost in the moment. One more surge from him and he would explode right where he waited.

In the far distance her goons could be heard. Clinking metal mugs and chanting drunken words as they toppled over each other. Such a distraction, she thought, as she lost her direction. Frustrated, she sat up, marching over to him and pulling back his fedora.

He was a sweaty mess from his wet hair stands down to the tent in his pants. His gag loose, but still soaked. His body tensed as she rounded him, her sticky fingers passing over his shoulders. He caught her scent and hummed low in his throat. Had the gag had not been there he might have whispered 'please’...

A massage to his shoulders never felt so painful. Her pressure was just right, but he wanted something else massaged whether she did it or he did it. 

Buzzing in closer to him, she licked at his neck as her hands came together at the buttons of his shirt. He sunk further down as bucked three times. 

Sounds of his chain rattled as she gave him enough slack to lower his arms, but he kept them up as best as he could until she had undid every button. Her hands scratched lightly at his pecks, causing him to groan.

“You seem awfully desperate, Jones…” Suddenly she could speak again, but her tone was just as desperate. Undoing his gag, he spit it out of his mouth and lowered his arms so his hands fell directly onto his lap.

She squeezed her legs together as she watched him wrestle with his belt. Once undone his hands moved quickly until they were nestled inside his shorts, wrapped tightly around his shaft. His head flew back in relief that made her feel as if she were dripping down her thighs.

So much left to be seen, but he was hiding himself. He wasn't doing much good as he couldn't find enough space to properly stroke himself. Removing one hand didn't help him any either. Frustrated he was as he tried to play with his head, knowing it couldn't be reached in the way he needed.

Pouring so much sweat it felt like rain. What exactly was he chasing without full access? His cock twitched as he effortlessly angled it so the tip was peeking against his pelvis.

She loved him even more this way or perhaps it has been the idea of it all. The experienced archaeologist who could talk a good game until he was taken to be played with and there he fought back the urge to pull his pants down to shuffle himself until he saw stars.

Or eclipses.

Time felt as if it were at a stand-still, but the need between them both was on the brink. So much so that he squirt pre-come onto his belly without any warning. She couldn't see, but she could tell from the way he worriedly looked downward and his hands went to apply pressure to his groin. As for her she was gushing and swollen.

She lit a lantern as the howls and annoying sounds from the men disappeared. They were putting themselves to sleep, or so the alcohol was responsible. Either way they were alone now with no distractions other than the smallest grunt from the doctor himself. 

He could speak now so why didn't he? She grinned at his maddening state that was all the mutual, but she still had the upper hand, she felt. Her grinning turned into a wide smile.and she erupted in laughter.

“All you had to do was hand it over, but no… you wanted a chance at fun.” She walked over to him, lightly dragging her fingertips over his chest and neck. “You'd never admit it… far too much pride, but if asked I'd bet that I was just what the doctor ordered.”

“You're mad.”

She breathed a laugh. “There aren't many ways to get you where you want to be, but have you any suggestions?”

Now she asked, he thought, eyes wide and wild. All he needed was a couple of minutes more of any kind of direct stimulation and he’d erupt. He grit his teeth in anger that he was harboring.

“Witch.” He spat violently.

“Sticks and stones, Doctor Jones, may break my bones, but words…” She nipped at his neck, feeling him move it at an angle, wanting her to continue. “...words are untrue.”

She caressed his naked flesh, making him start to quiver.

“Uh…” He couldn't hold himself back. Swallowing, then trying to drag himself away from her, yet staying near.

“Are you teasing yourself, Indiana?” She hummed with a her lips sealed. “I asked you for suggestions…”

She rounded him quickly, but hasn't realized he was moving just as fast as her. His hands were around her in seconds, pulling her done on top of him. She tried to pull away until her shifting left her moaning so loudly and suddenly that he captured her mouth in a tongue-filled kiss to keep her quiet.

He didn't ask her to undo his restraints, but if there ever was a truth to perfect timing, she'd have had his hands free right at that very moment. Instead, she broke the kiss and got herself balanced on her feet. There was a slight sway to her as she forced her pants down right in front of him.

As if on cue, he lifted his hips and pushed his slacks and shorts down his waist to his thighs. The trunk of the truck had already been let down long before they had gotten to this point. Leading him there took a matter of seconds and no sooner did he find his way nestling his throbbing cock between her smooth cheeks.

His groan was strangled, her moan swallowed as she led his hand between her legs. There he pinched and probed, rubbed and jerked. Stars all around, cosmic lights, and orgasmic sounds. Lost in space or the space between, which at the moment, was a moist mess of human need and greed that had been held back for too damn long.

A burst overhead lit up the night sky as he held her closely, shaking and dripping all over his hand. In seconds he was backing as he emptied himself on the floor between his feet.

Things were different now. Somehow they knew. Something in the air. Something in the stars. What would the future hold when they hadn't even thought about the morning after? One thing was for certain, they had to stop meeting like this. 

Things were different now… somehow.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this is going. I had an idea floating around my head, so what the hell? Any suggestions are welcome! :)


End file.
